


One more time, last one chance

by Galis7



Category: Ace Combat
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Air Force, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, Fighter Pilots, Love, Military, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galis7/pseuds/Galis7
Summary: My attempt at writing down what I imagine would happen after the final mission of AC7.
Relationships: Avril "Scrap Queen" Mead/Trigger, Count/Húxiān (Ace Combat)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	One more time, last one chance

Rosa stumbled out of the island, right onto the wind-swept deck of the strike carrier OFS Admiral Andersen. The Run-aground vessel was where she was brought by the SAR a day prior. It was late, sunny although chilly morning of the 1 st of November 2019 and Operation Hush was about to begin. It was her first time standing on a carrier deck, Erusea never had too many of them and she never had a chance to visit one. The feeling was incredible, she felt like she was standing on solid ground yet the ocean surrounded her completely, everywhere she’d look there was only deep blue water all the way to the horizon. North was the only exception. She turned her head to the right and shivered when she saw the space-scraping rope of Space Elevator reach out to the skies and beyond, with the eyes of her imagination she could’ve almost seen two terrible drones circling around it, just waiting to bring fire and brimstone onto the world below.

The princess bit down her lip and looked away, instead glancing at the people working on the deck. They were preparing for something, men dressed in colorful uniforms were running all over the ship, some were tugging carts with missiles strapped to them, some were bringing tools to another groups who were fiddling with open hatches on the front of the deck, by the two, long rails carved in the surface of the carrier. She didn’t understand any of that, the military was never a large interest of hers. She looked at the group of planes standing on the opposite side of the deck and at the large circle of people standing by them. Pilots, it was obvious as soon as Rosa looked at them. All dressed in various flight suits. There were Eruseans in their distinctive black suits, Oseans and Useans in green and even two of the Sol squadron in their traditional blue. Despite the group being quite large their whole attention seemed to focus on only one man. He was quite tall, leaning towards a rather better, more athletic build. Despite the fact he was obviously still a youngster, most probably barely reaching 30 years of age yet he had a very similar aura to old Mihaly Shilage. His eyes were empty, he was so close yet his soul seemed a thousand miles away. Then she noticed his helmet and the emblem on it – An orange-haired wolf holding a revolver in its jaws. This was the man, The Ghost, The Beast, Osean Big Shot, Devil incarnate or most often known as just Three Strikes.

She looked up at the large, twin-engine jet fighter behind him. The machine was born to destroy, tailored to kill and created in one sole purpose, to bring an end to everything that’s beautiful. Yet Rosa couldn’t hold herself from smiling softly as she traced its lines with her glance. It was beautiful. Once, very long prior to that day she had a friend, he was an artist before he joined the military. He told her that he believed that war machines were the most beautiful things mankind has ever created. There was nothing unnecessary about them, not a single line of extravaganza. In their most simple, purest form they were beautiful. This aircraft reminded her of those words. Painted in various shades of blue its lines reminded her of a bird in flight. Beautiful, long neck like a swan yet powerful wings of an eagle.

* * *

Trigger dropped the cigarette into the can he had been holding in his hand, cut open it served as a temporary ashtray. Everyone smoked, even those who usually weren’t made an exception for that day. Everyone was nervous, even the grizzled veterans, amazing pilots of the Sol Squadron. He glanced up at them as his finished cigarette touched the surface of the water inside of the can with a quiet hiss. Wit and Seymour, only those two were available that day. Mihaly, Hermann and Roald were all injured and had no planes to fly anyway. In the end they were all shot down by Trigger himself no less. But he didn’t feel superior to them, not at all. He didn’t feel superior to anyone in fact, in his mind he was just doing his job. Everyone would keep on telling him that he’s the best, if he could save just one life with his skill he would damn do his best.

He was pulled down from the clouds by a sudden sensation of elbow striking his ribs, in immediate reaction he quickly looked to the right, his own eyes instantly meeting with the hazel eyes of the Scrap Queen herself. – “You there Major Tom?” – She asked with a smug smirk.

To say there was some kind of magnetism to her would be to say nothing, she was the only one making him feel like a teen boy talking to a girl for the first time. - “Possibly. What’s up?”

Avril pulled air into her lungs but then suddenly paused, cutting herself off in the middle of the first word. She closed her mouth and clenched her teeth. She then sighed before finally speaking – “Just wanted to say good luck.. Not good bye, are we clear? Bring that rust bucket of Yukkie garbage back in one piece, I’ve spent the whole night restoring it for you so don’t crash it..” – She once more hesitated before speaking, pausing for a short second – “…Well, because I know no trash can with wings is going to get you.” – She flashed him a wide grin only then realizing that she unconsciously put her hand on Trigger’s bicep.

Trigger blinked a few times, a tidal wave of emotions rolling through him. First he smiled, then grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from his arm, instead moving to his chest and taking in both hands. He brought it up to his lips and pecked gently right atop its top – “I’ll be back.”

Avril bit down her lip as she felt his lips connect with the skin atop her hand. It was still dirty with grime and grease, she was almost ashamed that her nails haven’t been clean for the last weeks at all. But on the other hand, it was relieving that he didn’t mind, that he appreciated her the way she was. – “Oh you bastard..” – She mumbled before moving in forward, her arms lurching around his neck tightly. She pulled him in close, hugging him tightly, pressing her face into the front of his neck. Something she wanted to do for too long.

Trigger was staggered for the first brief seconds, standing with open arms before he just reciprocated the hug. Count, standing next to him wheezed through his teeth, smirking at them both. He was about to say something but a sudden smack on the shoulder from Huxian standing next to him quickly made him rethink. – “Don’t.”

“Alright, alright just don’t break my arm while you’re at it, jeez..” – Count answered the fierce woman, rubbing the spot she had hit.

Avril held Trigger tightly for what felt like eternity, she savored this moment the best she could. But in the end, she had to let go. With a heavy heart she stepped back and nodded her head – “Now go, it’s time.” 

He nodded back at her and glanced back at the group of pilots in front of him, he knew only few of them but trusted every single one of them with his life. The best of the best were now in front of him, all humanity had to offer against the cold AI of the drones. Nations didn’t matter anymore, colors, names of companies that produced their jets, in the end they all fought for the same thing: To end this war.

Wit cocked up a soft smirk as he stared at the ex-enemy – “What was that again.. Ah, right. Stick with Trigger and you’ll make it.”

* * *

“Excuse me..” – Trigger was about to start climbing the ladder up to his Su-35S when he heard the soft voice behind him. He turned around and saw exactly who he expected, he knew that voice, he heard it countless times on the radio. He knew that face too, it was Princess Rosa herself. – “I’m sorry but I wanted to talk to you before you leave. You’re going to hell and back to save my nation and I don’t even know your name, Three Strikes.. What is your name?”

Trigger remained silent for a few seconds before finally answering her – “Jack.”

She was startled by such a simple answer, yet somehow it fit just perfectly to his general demeanor. – “Well then, Jack.. Good luck. Show my airmen what it means to fly alongside Three Strikes. Together, at last.”

He just nodded, there was no need for more words. Jack climbed up the ladder, settling himself down in the cockpit of his Sukhoi, the place that has become his second home over the last weeks. – “It’s the end of the line, of the final journey. Enemies leaving the past.”

* * *

Rosa observed the start procedure from the glass top of the island, standing alongside Avril. Both of them were herded inside of it before the jets were started up to protect their hearing.– “I never expected you two to be a pair.”

“…” – The tomboyish woman didn’t answer, at least not at first. She was visibly flustered about the whole situation, mostly about how many people had seen it. – “Neither did I.. Damn Daredevil.”

The women saw his blue Sukhoi slowly roll onto the rail on the front of the carrier. A man in yellow uniform quickly dove down under the aircraft’s nose, to the front wheels to make sure everything was correctly attached. After a short second he jumped back and knelt by the cockpit, looking at the wings to make sure he wouldn’t be struck by the missile sitting on a pylon. Then the shooter raised up his right hand with the thumb up. Trigger answered with the same thumb up from inside of the cockpit, slammed the throttle forward and pushed his back and head against the cushions of his seat while his hands grabbed two handles in front of him. Nozzles of the turbofan engines opened up wide, thick plumes of bright-orange fire erupted from inside of them as the shooter lowered his right hand and formed a finger-gun with it. After an eternity long second of wait his left fist moved off the deck and hid behind his back. In the same moment the jet fighter launched, jumping up and down on the harness that held it attached to the steam catapult which propelled the craft forward, throwing it off the deck and into the sky. The shooter jumped up in pure joy, thrusting his fist into the sky as he watched Trigger leave.

Gracefully the bird slowly rose up, the throttle was pulled back as shown by the nozzles retracting somewhat and the afterburners shutting off. Flaps were retracted and slowly the Sukhoi flew further and further away, eventually disappearing among the clouds. 

**Author's Note:**

> PS. Yes, I know Su-35S isn't a carrier capable aircraft. But honestly, the wheel carriages aren't much different between this model and Su-33 and the Scrap Queen can work some wonders.
> 
> PS2. English isn't my native language yadda yadda yadda, tldr: I hope its still nice to read.


End file.
